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by ViktuuriSakurai
Summary: Yuuri is back from Russia, in Viktor's arms, but he can't help how his mind works. Makes him feel like a burden. No matter how many times the older man tells him otherwise. Yuuri has already made up his mind. Post episode 9. Fluff. Self-confidence issue. Hurt/comfort. Smut.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I can't own any characters and make no money from writing this.

Tags: Post episode 9. Fluff. Sex. Self-confidence issues. Self-doubt. Self-sabotage. Smut. Insecurity. Reassurance. Shyness.

Something had washed over him. Relief, maybe? He was feeling so deflated after his performance in Russia, maybe part of the reason as because Viktor wasn't on the side on the rink, cheering him on whenever he landed a step sequence, or perhaps it was because Yuuri wasn't as good of a skater as he was very slowly beginning to believe. Whichever one it was, Katsuki Yuuri wasn't prepared to fully accept either option. He had seen and heard things from his past.

 _'Why does he even skate? He comes in last every time.'_

 _'Who does he think he is? His sequence isn't even that complicated and he messes it up.'_

They were hurtful comments, but they weren't anything compared to the opinions he was seeing and hearing now.

 _'He's ruined Viktor's career! He's so selfish,'_

 _'Why doesn't he just let Viktor get on with his life and go back to skating? At least he's good at it.'_

 _'Hanging around Yuuri might make him lose his skills as a skater.'_ And so on. Social media criticism was harsh and straight to the point. It hurt so much more knowing he was bringing Viktor down with him.

But walking through the busy Fukuoka airport gateway towards the exit lobby, being pulled from his thoughts by Makkachin, then looking up to see Viktor through the glass. He was so _close_ , it made his heart hurt. If only Yuuri could walk through walls.

He was just thinking how he had a lot to tell Viktor, and now he wouldn't have to wait so long. It has already been over 48 hours.

His legs were going before he even realized, moving as fast as they could to the end of the hall and through the automatic doors. Yuuri never taking his eyes off Viktor, and the Russian doing the same as he ran through the waiting area.

Running into Viktor's arms, feeling them hold him so tightly, made all the negative thoughts leave his mind for a brief moment. It felt like it was just him and Viktor in the world and it was the best feeling.

The ride in the taxi back to Hasetsu was silent. The whole hour and fifteen minutes of it.

 _'Where to start?'_ Yuuri thought, staring out the window, too nervous to look at Viktor. He has so much to tell Viktor, so much to ask him.

It had been a rough 48 hours for the both of them. Yuuri didn't notice before, it was only when they were waiting for the taxi that he took notice of the state Viktor was in. His hair was dishevelled, he had bags under his eyes, clearly not been sleeping well. The experience of almost losing a life long companion, and maybe not having the chance to say goodbye, had taken its toll on Viktor. At least, that's what Yuuri thought.

Viktor paid the driver, tipping him a bit as he was too tired to wait for the change. He held Yuuri's hand as they walked up to the house. It was late by the time they arrived back, passed 12AM. Yuuri's family were asleep, trusting that Viktor would bring their boy home in one piece.

Taking off his shoes, coat and scarf, Yuuri bent down to pick up hi back again. His hand bumping into Viktor's. "Sor-" He went to apologize, wishing he hasn't looked up. His face inches away from Viktor's own. _'He looks even more tired up close.'_

Grabbing Yuuri's hand, using his other to get the bag, Viktor smiled tiredly. "Let's get you to your room. I know you don't like having a late night." He took them to the younger man's bedroom. "I'm sorry I couldn't have been there. I saw your performance but it's just not the same as seeing it live." He wasn't looking at Yuuri.

"It's alright, Viktor. I told you to come back to Japan and be with Makkachin..." Yuuri looked down, even though the Russian wasn't looking at him. "I'm sorry, Viktor, I..." Where did that come from? _Viktor already said he was going to stay with me. Why am i apologizing?'_ He didn't realize he was even crying either until Viktor was stroking his cheek, wiping away a tear.

"I may have said I wish you'd never retired, but even if you retired tomorrow or in thirty years' time, I will still take care of you." He moved closer to the younger man, their noses almost touching, "Just like you ask." He chuckled, watching the blush on Yuuri's face grow, even going across his nose. "I'll leave you to get changed. You must feel dirty after being on a plan for hours with little personal space." And with that, Viktor made his way to his own bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

Closing the door, Yuuri took of his jumper, laying it on the end of his bed. He would move it in a moment. "I still have so much to tell Viktor." He pulling his t-shirt off, over his head. "Why can't I be as open as earlier? Or... was that only because we hadn't seen each other for a couple of days." The Asian bit his lip, folding his t-shirt in a nervous habit, even though it was dirty. "Maybe I should go talk to Viktor..." Yuuri shook his head, quickly stripping the rest of his clothes and pulling on his stripy blue pyjamas - they were his favourite. "It can wait until morning."

But even with that thought in mind, Yuuri still found himself standing outside Viktor's bedroom door, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "He'll probably be asleep, or he'll smile and say it's fine that I interrupted him but really, he's upset that I disturbed him this late, or-"

"Or he will fix your top buttons, asking you to come into the room because he wants to talk to you." His smile was genuine, his hand gliding down Yuuri's arm to his hand, pulling him in gently and sliding the door closed behind him. He couldn't say no to Viktor.

Yuuri's mind went blank. In the taxi, it went into overdrive, thinking of a million questions and statements he wanted to say. Now, he can't even remember his own name. How was he supposed to tell Viktor about his time away from the older man. Or how he might not be as good as Viktor says he can be. His head was spinning, but it doesn't matter. The Grand Prix Final. His self-doubt. The negative comments from the world. None of that mattered.

Not when he has the Russian's lips against his own, the pale hand against his cheek, Viktor's thumb tracing alone his lip line, silently coaxing Yuuri to open his mouth to deepen the sweet kiss.

Viktor's tongue against his own. He was in a playful mood, which seemed odd considering they haven't seen each other and they were both tired, but what does he know about sex and relationships, other than what Viktor has taught him, All he knows is that Viktor has awoken something inside him, a need that wasn't there before, one that the only person Yuuri has ever truly loved, outside of his family, can satisfy.

The butterflies in his stomach just from Viktor's tongue sliding across his own was enough to make him blush still, he probably wouldn't ever get over that happening. "V-Viktor..." Why did his voice sound so breathy, it was only a kiss.

Viktor held the arm of Yuuri's glasses, pulling them off carefully, setting them aside. "I missed you, Yuuri." His sweet smile, like butter wouldn't melt. He unbuttoned Yuuri's pyjama shirt, tortuously slowly, he was torturing himself. "You were thinking too much on the ice, didn't we talk about that?"

"I'm sorry, Viktor, I..." His voice started to crack, he has disappointed his coach.

"Have nothing to be sorry for." He got to the last button. "You're in the finals, aren't you?" Yuuri nodded, keeping his head down. "I'm so proud of you, Yuuri." The older man spoke the Japanese name as he kissed his neck, sliding the stripy shirt off of Yuuri's small shoulders and onto the wooden floor. He tugged Yuuri's earlobe between his teeth, earning a small gasp, almost a yelp. He was still so sensitive to the new sensations that being intimate with Viktor brought.

The older man held Yuuri's hand up to kiss his fingers before letting it go, turning to go and sit on the bed. "Are you going to stand there all night, Yuuri?" Viktor teased, leaning back on the mattress, using his arms as support.

Yuuri was frozen on the spot. Just now noticing that Viktor's kimono was only tied loosely, one side starting to hang off his left shoulder and the bottom half falling open between his legs but his modesty still in act. Typical Viktor Nikiforov. And that's why he find himself sitting close to Viktor, too close, before he could talk himself out of it. He has to stop himself from doing that, train himself, it wasn't good for his mental health.

His lips are on Viktor's, closing his eyes because he doesn't know where to look when they kiss and Viktor looking back at him makes him nervous. That's as far as he can take it because what if Viktor doesn't want to go any further tonight? What if he's pushing the older man, it has to be Viktor's terms. What if he has hates it? It's annoying the other man to the point where he's just putting up with it for the sake of-

 _'Yuuri.'_

His voice is like silk. Even when it's calling him back from the darkness his own mind creates.

" _Ah._ " Yuuri moaned, Viktor nipping the base of his earlobe. Viktor knew where all his sensitive areas were. He knew which ones caused a small groan and which ones had him withering. He has the Asian man's body mapped out in his mind. Yuuri's body seemed to answer to all of Viktor's touches, like he was sending shocks of electricity into Yuuri. And more often than not, they went straight to his cock and Viktor's too.

Viktor firmly but slowly pushed Yuuri onto his back, he always gave Yuuri the opportunity to stop and escaped if he needed to, if his mind was stable that particular day. His breath was already quickening. "Shh, Yuuri." Viktor kissed him chastely. "I've got you." His eyes never lied, right now they were the sweet and charming sea blue that calmed Yuuri's nerves. He trusted Viktor, despite all the thoughts that often led to him believing Viktor was just trying to make a point with a publicity stunt - _Look at the five time gold medallist, , he can skate and coach Japan's worst figure skater. Isn't he amazing? Russia must be so proud.'_ All the thoughts that once the Grand Prix Finals were over, it would be like the past months never happened. Viktor would go back to his life in Russia, where he was happy and content. And Yuuri... Well, Yuuri would be stuck in his mundane little life, just like before. Before Viktor brightened up his world.

He whimpered.

Oh God. Here he was, half naked, Viktor kissing his neck, and he was _crying_. For all the wrong reasons in this situation.

Yuuri felt Viktor's body blanket over his own, he never minded feeling Viktor's full body weight over him. It was comforting, as were the arms that wrapped around his neck and the soft lips that pressed against his own, slightly chapped ones. Even the Russian's smell brought him comfort and calmed his thoughts. The earthy, sweet smell - cinnamon - seemed to make him feel grounded. "Didn't I make a promise to take care of you, Yuuri? That includes telling me what's making you cry so I can fix the problem." He kissed Yuuri's lips again. "You're nervous and timid, easy to read even though you accept negative comments with a smile, you hate to challenge them."

His heart was breaking. "I'm sorry-"

"But you have a lot more talent than you realize." He was cut off again, but he was already digging his own mental grave. "You work harder than anyone I know." He kissed Yuuri's neck. "You are the most considerate person I know." The next kiss was over his left nipple, the slight wetness on Viktor's lips making the nub harden. "Your Eros is gaining more fluidity the more you practice." Next was below his navel, the trail of hair, darker than Yuuri was happy with, going into his pyjama bottoms. "I can hardly control myself around you." Viktor pilled the pants off the smaller man. "When you're so focused on seducing me." That got him blushing from ear to ear, his cock hitting his stomach with a slight curve. He has always hated that it curved about two thirds of the way up and imagined his future lover - girlfriend at the time - would also hate it but Viktor never said a bad word about his body, calling him a little pig is, of course, an exception.

"You can't go all shy on me now." His breath was making Yuuri's cock twitch, erupting small, desperate moans from his mouth and barely controlled bucks from his hips. He hasn't long lost his virginity, he still didn't have control a typical twenty-three year old had but he made up for it with stamina. Something even Viktor was taken aback by.

"A-ahh" His moans were shaky as Viktor licked the pre-cum that has already gathered on the slit just by his close proximity. At this moment in Yuuri's sexual awakening, Viktor could probably get him off with just filthy words and his hot breathe on his cock, but right now wasn't the time for that. But would definitely have to happen at some point. Viktor was looking forward to it.

Sitting up on his knees between Yuuri's legs, Viktor slipped off his kimono, not tearing his eyes away from the brown ones watching him. "You always liked to watch me, for different reasons as you got older." He makes Yuuri blush yet again, Viktor holding his jaw firmly as he attempted to turn his head away. "Now while we're together like this, I want you to watch me, believe that what you see is _because_ of you." He kissed him again, deeper this time. Yuuri's lips forced apart by the older man's tongue, it playing with his own. Viktor's eight inches rubbing against Yuuri's own six as he pinned him down, reaching under the pillow for the pre-placed lube and condom. Pulling up from the kiss, a trail of saliva keeping them connected briefly. Viktor squirted the cherry scented lube onto his fingers, warming them up first. "Don't turn away from me, Yuuri, I like to watch you too."

Pushing Yuuri's legs up to bend as his knees, Viktor rubbed his middle finger against Yuuri's pink hole. It contrasted with his darker skinned arse. "V-Victor." There was a nervous plea in there, Viktor could hear it and gave in quickly, sliding his finger in slowly but not stopping until he was knuckle deep. He knows what Yuuri enjoys and how to help him explore the possibilities, such as pushing his fingers in whole, not nudging them in section by tiny section.

Another drop of pre-cum smudged on Yuuri's stomach as he whine, contracting around the pale finger. Even that used to feel too much for him, but his body knows it can handle something larger now. _Craves_ something larger when he's in this situation. He can only mumble, squeezing his eyes shut, out of embarrassment probably.

"What was that, Yuuri? I couldn't hear you." Viktor began pulling his finger out, "You need to speak up." He pushed his finger back in fast as he spoke the last word, making Yuuri arch his back as Viktor's finger hits his prostate. "Communicate with me, Yuuri. What do you need?" He pushed, a little smirk forming on his lips.

"I want..." Putting Yuuri on the spot, pushing him into a corner, always worked. "You! I want you, Viktor." His voice was low, like he was scared Viktor or himself would break if he said it any louder, if someone else was to hear such a confession. "Please, Viktor... Always." How could the Russian say no to such a voice? Pulling out his finger, he pushed two in this time, until the pink rim met the edge of his palm, casuing Yuuri's hips to shuffle as the fingers pressed on his prostate again.

"Ngh." Yuuri dug his heel into the mattress, panting a little. Viktor's fingers spread his hole as Yuuri tried to keep himself tight through nervousness. Dripping more lube onto his fingers, Viktor didn't mind the slick mess, he added a third finger, watching Yuuri's body stretch around them.

It was only a small movement, but the older man felt it. Yuuri pushing back on his fingers, wanting more. His words weren't always truthful, but his body was.

" _Tss, lyubov' moya._ " The thick Russian accent sent chills down Yuuri's spine, the hairs on his neck standing up and his cock leaking pre-cum like a fountain. He'd have to ask Viktor what he said afterwards, of he remembered to.

Yuuri always whined when Viktor pulled his fingers out, always felt empty. Watching Viktor rip the foil packet open and slide the condom on with ease only made his cheeks stain pink, the experience Viktor must have always put the Asian man on edge.

Pale hand against a tanned cheek, Viktor dragging his thumb across Yuuri's bottom lip more roughly than earlier before his lips claimed the ones before. He tasted so sweet, like he expelled innocence. Pulling back from the kiss before it go to heated, he lifted Yuuri's leg over his shoulder, thank God for flexibility, kissing his bruised ankle. The tip of his cock pressing against Yuuri's perineum. "I'm going in now, Yuuri. it that alright?" He already knew the answer.

Yuuri gripped the white sheet, whining and biting his bottom lip, making it wet, read and swollen. Thoughts Viktor has are absolutely filthy. "Yuuri, are you ready now?" His voice more demanding and he received a little nod. Viktor shuffled, pressing the tip against Yuuri's eager hole. " _Yuuri._ "

"Yes!" He was desperate, already tearing up from the teasing - Viktor hadn't even teased him _that much_.

One day he will have to say no to Yuuri.

Today isn't that day.

Viktor pressed the tip firmly against him, feeling the resistance from the ring of muscle but didn't let it faze his concentration.

"Ah, Viktor!" Yuuri reached out to cling onto his bicep as the head of his cock went in. It felt so _hot_ through the extra thin latex. He was pushing in slowly, watching Yuuri's expression, a mix between a painful stretch and embarrassing pleasure. His blush travelled to his ears and down his neck, trying to catch his breath, feeling Viktor slide in more until his cheeks were flush against Viktor's thighs. Trembles as he adjusts to the size, looking everywhere but as Viktor. How could he? Because as soon as he did, as soon as Viktor held his jaw firmly to keep in place, an urgent moan escaped from between his lips. A noise that came from the pit of his stomach, the same place that tingles and feels burning hot just before he comes from Viktor's touch, even just the thought of him.

His back arched as Viktor's cock pressed deep inside him, unable to control the volume of his voice, having to be silenced by Viktor's kisses. He felt safe. He felt wanted.

"Yuuri," Viktor kissed and nipped the younger man's lips. "Tell me how it feels...let yourself be taken over by the emotions and feelings." Every word was accompanied by a thrust or a pull of his cock, but never fully leaving Yuuri's body, he was staying physically connected with the withering man underneath him. This wasn't going to last long.

"I...it feels...G-God, you know... _Viktor_." Yuuri couldn't even think straight, let around speak. Viktor was moving faster, quickly reducing him to a mess of moans and _'Viktor, Viktor, oh God, Viktor.'_

The Russian's movements were becoming faster, becoming more erratic as he got close, as was Yuuri. His eyes were going heavy, tears going down his face, his hands becoming fidgety as he wants to touch himself but knows he doesn't _need_ to in order to come.

"Y-Yuuri," He panted, lowering Yuuri's leg down to lean over his body and kiss him messily, all tongue and the need to come imminent.

Putting his hands through Viktor's hair, gripping it as he felt the heat in his stomach, bucking his hips the best he could to meet Viktor's thrusts. The older man's full name unable to leave Yuuri's mouth when he comes between them, mostly over himself, squeezing Viktor's cock and around his shoulders, like it's a matter of life and death. Viktor ending up moaning into Yuuri's neck as he releases into the condom, his hips still moving until he's finished. Kissing his neck as they both panted.

A few minutes passed and Viktor pulled out, slipping off the condom and tying it carefully. "I'll get you a wet cloth." He kissed Yuuri's quickly, going to the bathroom, disposing of the condom while he's in there.

All - relatively - clean, in the dark at 2:57AM, Yuuri's head on Viktor's chest as the older man was rubbing his back. It was really time for some sleep, the birds would be singing soon

"You scared me."

It was soft, Yuuri wasn't sure if Viktor has even said anything, but the vibrations he felt from his chest told him otherwise, maybe he was talking in his sleep-

"I never felt so nervous, being pushed away by you." He was still talking softly. Maybe because it was dark and he didn't want to disturb the silence of the night too much. Maybe because people were more open about their fears and feelings when they can't be seen. Can't be judged visually.

His arm tightened around Yuuri's body. "Don't do that to me again. _Pozhaluysta._ "

Yuuri kissed his chest. "I won't, Viktor. Get some sleep." He felt a kiss on his head and Viktor was asleep in minutes, leaving Yuuri to battle his own thoughts, fighting back tears.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been since December 2016. I'm so sorry. Please enjoy. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri on Ice.

XxxxxxX

He hasn't had a good night's sleep since the Rostelcome free skate in Russia. Awake or asleep, he can't shake off the images and thoughts of how terrible he was. The performance for _Yuri on Ice_ is supposed to convey love, compassion, affection – similar to Eros, but not as sexual, not as dirty, not as raw. If anyone took that meaning and looked deeper into Yuuri's performance, they might see how clumsy he is, how many times he stumbled. Someone might question where the influence has gone, how unsure Yuuri is about love.

He barely made it into the listings for the Grand Prix Final. Counting his blessing Viktor wasn't there to see just how much he ruined all of the Russian's hard work as a coach, putting all of his knowledge into Yuuri. He was disappointed for Viktor, showing him up in front of Yakov – who had his doubts in the first place about Viktor's plans. He's probably laughing his arse off, the Grand Prix Final is now an easy win for him and Yurio with no Viktor competing this year.

XxxxxxX

Katsuki Yuuri is an expert at putting on smile, even when his mind is falling to pieces, he's been doing it for years. Most people don't question it, and the ones who do, Yuuri can convince them enough that nothing is wrong, he's just under the weather or its competition nervous.

He's under the weather _a lot_.

XxxxxxX

When Yuuri hears the older generation talk about how the internet is the worst thing to ever have been invented, sometimes Yuuri silently agrees with them.

' _Did you see Katsuki Yuuri trip? Haha, reminded me of a year ago.'_

' _Is Yuuri gaining weight again?'_

' _I wish Viktor was skating this year instead of Yuuri.'_

Even the reporters, _'Is Katsuki Yuuri's borrowed costume looking a little tight around his mid-section? Is the pressure of the Grand Prix Final too much for the Japanese skater to handle?'_

When he was younger, or even last year, any event in his life which left him feeling useless, lost, or where he had given it his all but even up with little to no results; it all concluded with food. He would eat, and eat, and _eat_. Sure, it didn't help the situation, made it worse in fact. Yuuri feeling too heavy to move or having no energy to do anything – but food never hurt him, not emotionally, anyway. It was the disappointing looks and judgemental comments that hurt emotionally. There's no way his fragile state could handle Viktor's look of disapproval if he became overweight again. That might just break him.

He can't afford to let Viktor down again.

That's why he's sitting at the table, smiling – _that smile_ – pushing the food around the shallow china bowl with his chopsticks as he looks to be concentrating on what he's mother is saying, but if you asked him to repeat it, he wouldn't be able to.

Just smile and nod. His mother is too busy talking to Viktor to notice that he isn't participating in the conversation, but that's nothing new. Everyone focuses on Viktor over Yuuri for one reason or another – the performance level, the physical looks, or the social skills. Whatever the choice, Viktor wins hands down.

Yuuri excused himself quietly, leaving the room quickly. Not realizing he earned a worrying look from the Russian. He was too consumed with his thoughts to notice that Viktor had even called his name.

His bedroom is his safe place. Laptop and phoned switched off to avoid social media, avoid how the world viewed him and his desperate attempts at skating, clinging onto Viktor's glory, his fame and his five consecutive gold medals. He's a parasite, Yuuri knows that. Viktor's long term and very loyal fans were right, his clumsy mistakes will start affecting Viktor's performance if – when – he goes back to skating to redeem himself from the months he wasted with Yuuri.

Feeling sick, he held his mid-section while laying curled up in bed. His stomach knotting uncomfortably as his mind still reeling through his failings. His head as _pounding_. He couldn't focus on anything. The light hurt his eyes, but closing them didn't help either, it made him feel dizzy. If he moved, he would have probably brought up bile on his bedroom floor. He focused on breathing, on not being sick. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

The gentle knock on his door was like a drum being hit right next to his ear. "Yuuri?"

The smaller skater was almost sick right there and then. His stomach felt like it had dropped. What was he going to say? How was he going to get away with the little lies that he told his friends and family to the man who seemed to be able to see right through him, into his soul? Yuuri felt dizzy, scared to even open his mouth in fear of being sick and drawing attention with his retching. "Y-yes…" breathe, "Yes, Viktor?"

"You disappeared quickly during lunch and didn't come back. I waited" He almost sounded sad. "Are you feeling alright?"

' _What do you care?'_

Yuuri mentally shook the thought out of his head, it wasn't fair to think such things. "I'm fine." He answered too quickly. "I was just…" He looked around his room for any ideas. "Checking my emails." Even the very thought of switching his phone or laptop on was enough to make his stomach knot again. "I'll be out in a minute" When his stomach stopped twisting and he could plaster his _all I want to do is cry, but really I'm fine smile_ back on his face.

It took him nearly ten minutes to come back downstairs, still trying to limit what he was doing in order to not be sick where he stood. He didn't need people worrying about him unnecessary. He was _fine_. Too concerned with avoiding as much light as possible along with sudden body movements, that he didn't realize his current state was having an effect on Viktor, who couldn't take his eyes off Yuuri. _'Something is up with him.'_ Viktor confirmed to himself, getting up from his spot to join the younger man. "Say, Yuuri," he spoke softly, "before we fly to Barcelona, I thought we could take a short trip to Russia. I want to check on my apartment, not that I don't trust Yakov. I need to pick up a suit for the banquet." He almost missed the groan Yuuri made at the mere mention of the Gala banquet, the end of this season's finals – and, quite possibly, both their careers.

' _Viktor's perfect home. His medals and awards. His perfect life before…_ ' "I'll see… I feel like I've flown a lot in a really short time and… I haven't caught up on the lack of sleep yet."

"It's alright, Yuuri." He sounded disappointed. "I don't have to pick it up. I'll call Yakov and ask him to get it, he should know which one. I just thought it would be a nice, short break before going to Spain. It's fine if you're not feeling up to it. I understand." Viktor tried to hide the sadness behind his smile.

XxxxxxX

They arrived in Moscow in the late afternoon, Yuuri bundled up more than Viktor as he wasn't used to the Russian cold. His mask pulled up to cover his mouth and nose, he said it helped with flight sickness, when really it helped hide the miserable expression he hasn't been able to exchange for a brighter one.

The drive in the taxi to Viktor's home felt uncomfortable to the Asian. Viktor never said anything about it, so maybe it was just Yuuri being pathetic and making something out of nothing. It wouldn't be the first time. In his mundane life, maybe he did tend to cling onto the little changes and let his imagination run away with the ideas that were truly ridiculous.

The place was freezing, it has practically been unoccupied for months. Viktor switched the heating on as soon as they arrived, even before taking off his coat. Yuuri noticed it was also spotless and everything was in its right place. It screamed Viktor Nikiforov – Yuuri was just making it look cluttered.

Viktor ordered them take-out, he was too tired to cook, already planning to make something amazing for Yuuri tomorrow, topped off with a dessert they would both enjoy. After dinner, they took a bath – separately. Yuuri went first and by the time Viktor finished, Yuuri was on the edge of the bed, duvet pulled up to his nose, pretending to be asleep. He felt bad for doing it, but he couldn't face Viktor right now.

XxxxxxX

He followed Viktor through the streets, trying to carry on the conversation and at least show he acknowledged the comments the Russian was making about landmarks and stores.

" _Yuuri, wear something comfortable, okay? We're going on a date. It's a surprise where but I promise you're going to love it." Viktor beamed._

Letting out a small sigh, Yuuri pushed his glasses back up his nose and continued to follow the older man. He would have to make Viktor think he really liked whatever the surprise was, hoped he's able to convince him that all his efforts to make Yuuri feel better didn't go to waste. He appreciated it, he really did, but he just wasn't in the mood for a day filled on rainbows and pixie dust – he would rather find a dark corner to hide in. Viktor noticed this, part of it anyway. He knew Yuuri wasn't feeling himself and thought the Asian man would come to him and talk about his concerns when he was ready to. Viktor trusted Yuuri to open up, just as much as he hopes Yuuri trusted him.

If you push a fragile person further than they can handle, they will react the opposite way you want them to, and Viktor did not need or want Yuuri to regress on all his hard work – he had done so well to get where he is today in only a few months. The Yuuri that Viktor met to the Yuuri now were slowly becoming the same person again and that _could not_ happen. He wanted to see that smile Yuuri gave him when they kissed live on TV. It was full of warmth and happiness, and the sweet blush that dusted his cheeks was not caused by embarrassment but through pure affection. Though, it seems that with the finals coming up, Yuuri has got a bit lost along the way.

That's why Viktor's hoping his surprise will help Yuuri blow off a little steam, let him get the negative thoughts and emotions out. It would be a nice change in pace. He was sure Yuuri was going to love.

But as they got their destination, Yuuri's body was not filled with excitement, but dread.

 _Saint Petersburg Ice Palace._

"I got Yakov to make some calls and hire it privately for a few hours, so we get the whole rink to ourselves." Viktor looked so happy and hopeful, like a puppy waiting to be praised. "Let's go inside and get ready." He held Yuuri's hand tighter as he pulled them though the entrance doors, telling the security guard then the manager, who greeted Viktor with a smile and a handshake. He was an older man, had probably known Viktor for quite some time. Yuuri didn't know what they spoke about, he didn't know that much Russian. Viktor led them to the locker room, two pairs skates already waiting for them, Viktor seems to have it all planned out. Like everything in his life…

"We don't have to practice for the finals, just casual skating." His smile was _killing_ Yuuri. "Say, Yuuri, did you know this is where I won my first European competition?" _Of course_ Yuuri knows. "That was so long ago." Over ten years ago. What was Yuuri doing ten years ago? Sitting alone in the corner of his class or sitting in his room watching videos of Viktor. They were already worlds apart back then.

Calling the rink huge was an understatement. With a seating capacity of 12,300, the ice had to span quite a distance from one end to the other. It was often used for hockey tournaments.

"Isn't this great, Yuuri?" Viktor looked around. "I still like your Ice Castle, though. It's quaint and quirky, like you." Meaning it's dull and boring. He smiled, skating around to get the feel for the ice – or mostly the boots as they weren't his own, that would have given the surprise away.

Viktor continued skating around, not quite making the most of the space given as it was only the two of them. He carried on speaking, his mouth never stopped moving as he was talking about step sequences, explaining how they could increase the difficulty to earn more points from the judges or…was it about his younger years? Which Yuuri knows all about and if it were any other time, he would love to hear about it directly from the man himself – how he acquired his signature moves, winning local competitions before his name was known worldwide by millions, and all of your fans wanting you one way or another.

Yuuri concentrated on keeping his head up as the Russian spoke, but his shoulders were slouching and his eyes weren't focusing on anything in particular. It felt like it was impossible to look at one thing for any longer than a few seconds. His head was throbbing again. The two of them in the large ice rink – _a cage_ – the coldness from the ice going up into the air, no body heat from people to stop it raising. The sound waves also seemed to intensify with no one but the two of them. Is that why it felt so cold?

Yuuri flexed his fingers, making fists as he tried to warm up his clammy hands, wiping them on his trousers to see if that helped.

Why was it so hard to hear, Yuuri was struggling over the echoing, straining his ears to listen. Viktor sounded so distant, he could barely hear what the Russian was talking about. The thumping in his ears was getting worse by the second. What was it? Viktor didn't seem to be affected by it.

 _His heart._

It was the thumping from his heart. The sound was getting increasingly faster, he could feel the beats quicken under his hand too. The racing movements weren't helping his state. It was like he was becoming detached from his body, the sound of blood rushing in his ears was so loud and distressing. He felt so cold. Not because of the low temperature. No, this was in his bones, like he would never warm up again but his shirt was starting to stick to his chest. Was that why he couldn't speak? Couldn't breathe?

He tried to look back at Viktor, who was still talking.

"We never really danced together, have we, Yuuri?" Viktor done a small axel jump. "I've coached you, helped your posture and tried to make the most of your jumps, but never have we danced to the same music." His face lit up. "That's not completely true, though. Only we weren't together and it wasn't at the same time, but the more I watched you, the more I envisioned myself there also. I've had dreams about it. Holding you from behind as we move the ice as one." The Russian smiled warmly, reaching out his hand to take Yuuri's. The instant the touch was made, the world went dark.

Yuuri crumpled onto the ice, head hung low with his arms clutching at his sides. He needed to get away, but his body would just not move! His lungs were going to burst, he couldn't breathe fast enough – wasn't even attempting – he couldn't get air into his lungs for love nor money. Everything was dark around him, a shadow had engulfed his surroundings, only a small patch of ice was left in front of him. Yuuri was going to die right here.

He was having a heart attack, he was sure. The human heart shouldn't be beating as fast as Yuuri felt his was. His arms felt numb, it was definitely heart attack. Bile was making its way up his throat – he was a worthless human being, he may as well die, he was never any good to his family or friends. Only a burden.

It was so hot around him, inside him. Yuuri was suffocating – not how he had planned to die, he hoped to be asleep when he passed away, not feel his throat close up, cutting off much needed oxygen and not be able to do anything about it.

His mind was completely muddled. The darkness had progressed, inching its way closer to the fragile man, ready to swallow him whole.

" _-uri."_

It was going to eat him alive.

" _-uuri."_

Something – a calling – had penetrated the echoing in his ears. It was far from calm but…somewhat familiar.

The darkness wasn't getting nearer, instead there was a gentle pressure on his face, holding his head up. Yuuri let out a long ragged breath.

"T-that's it." Viktor sounded relieved. "Now keep following my breathing. Don't take your eyes off me." He instructed, keeping Yuuri from turning his head away. He couldn't lose this chance at a breakthrough, he might not get Yuuri back a second time.

"V-Viktor?" His voice was barely audible, so terrified of drawing any attention.

Upon hearing his name, Viktor breathed a sigh of relief, ready to help Yuuri up. Before he could move, the Asian man pulled away from him. "…go…. I have to go." Yuuri mumbled to himself, getting to his feet so quickly it made him hold his head from the dizziness it caused. Without any warning, Yuuri skated off the ice, his stomach hitting the top of the boards surrounding the rink where he couldn't slow down in time. Ignoring the pain, he sat slumped on the closest bench, pulling at the laces on the generic skates, only making things worse for himself as he created a knot instead of getting them untied. Yuuri couldn't contain the sound that left his mouth, a mix between annoyance and misery.

"I've got it, Yuuri." Since when was Viktor on the floor in front of him?

Viktor got rid of the knot with ease, pulling off the boot and making quick work of the other. Yuuri was on his feet as soon the boots were off, heading to the locker room like a man on a mission which – in his mind – he was, a mission to leave the ice rink and spend the rest of his life curled up in a ball.

"-out of here… Need to go." The Asian ordered himself, Viktor following behind him.

"We are leaving, Yuuri. I'll take you back home." He spoke, unsure if Yuuri was listening, if he could even hear. The older man wasn't sure if he could make it back to his apartment by foot, he might just collapse on the street and not move. While it was safer and quieter to get a taxi, Yuuri made no sound, keeping his head down even after they got through the door. Viktor watched helplessly as Yuuri slipped off his shoes and hung up his coat before shutting himself in Viktor's bedroom – the _only_ bedroom – knees pulled up to his chest and blanket pulled over his body, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the world.

The Russian left him alone for as long as it took to make something light to eat, bringing it in and placing it on the bedside table. "Yuuri?"He spoke quietly so not to startle the younger man. "I brought you some soup. Maybe try and eat some?" He got no response. "Even a couple of spoonfuls?" Silence. "Please, Yuuri, eat something. _Say_ something. _Please_?" He would have fallen to his knees in the snow and begged if it meant Yuuri would talk or eat, but he was getting nothing from the younger man and that frightened him.

XxxxxxX

 _His eyes were swallow and sore where he had been crying so much – no change there, really; he was always a pathetic waste of space. Surrounded by darkness, Yuuri could hardly see his hand in front of his face, added blurriness due to his sight problems. Water rippled around his ankles, swashing as he walked through it, trying to find_ something _within the darkness, everything direction led to nothingness._

 _A chill slithered down Yuuri's spine at the sound of taunting laughter. Yurio appearing on his right hand side, harsh words about him being a worthless pig echoed around him. The look of disgust caused Yuuri to lower his head in shame. "I warned you, pig. I told you to quit before things got worse for you. You deserve every fucking nasty thing said about you." The blonde smirked. "He should have picked me, but now I'm going to make sure king fucking Viktor quits, too."_

 _To his left, Yuuri was faced with his parents, disappointment written across their faces. His mother's sad expression; her only son – her baby – turned out to be a pitiful mess of anxiety and failure. His father's cold eyes, silently judging the choices Yuuri had made in his life. "You couldn't have just met a nice girl and settled for joining the family business, could you? You had to make your mother cry by trying to become famous and loving… someone like that. It's not right, Yuuri."_

 _Struggling to breathe, the Japanese man gripped the front of his t-shirt, a weak sob escaping his throat as his lungs grew heavy – too heavy to expand, like they had been filled with lead – and his heart sank when a shadow cast over him._

 _Distaste for Yuuri was evident in his icy green eyes. The man looked down at him like he was dirt – and he felt like dirt; he has let Viktor down in the worst possible way. The world's most perfect figure skater had wasted his time with a man who messed up one too many times in their short chapter together._

" _Viktor?" It was barely a whisper, terrified to break the silence between them._

" _I put my career on the line for_ you _." His word stung; his best wasn't good enough for the God of ice skating. "Everybody told me not to do it, but as usual, I done what I wanted, thought I could rescue Japan's_ finest _from the grave he dug himself into. Yakov was furious at me, tried to tell me that my time and career wasn't worth the hassle. I had to see for myself if I was capable of such a selfless act." His smile was cold, hollow. "I surprised even myself with how patient I was with you, when you continued to mess up my hard work. While you frustrated me to no end, I did have fun with you, also. You hung on every word I said, waiting for the next instruction like a loyal_ dog _. We put on quite a show as coach and skater. We had everyone believing the kiss was genuine between two in love. Of course, it wasn't an act on your part. Your first real kiss, your first time… Your first and only love – your obsession – I could have gotten you to do absolutely anything."_

 _Yuuri was an uncontrollable mess, ugly sobs choking their way out, tears falling down his cheeks with no signs of stopping. Now on his knees after hearing the truth from Viktor's own mouth, Yuuri lost any hope he'd had left. Head hung low, he wasn't worthy – or brave – enough to look at the older man. He lost that privilege months ago, but refused to acknowledge it. He should have chosen Yurio._

" _Why don't you do everyone a favour and disappears? You're neither use nor ornament to anyone, even your parents have had enough of you. It's time you let people live their lives without you holding them back." Turning away from the distraught man, Viktor never looked back as the water rose up around Yuuri like a cage before violently crashing down onto him, flooding his lungs at an alarming rate –_

Whimpering, Yuuri couldn't breathe – he couldn't _move_. His lungs were heavily and throat closing up; he was going to die this time, for sure. He couldn't even will his eyes shut to have, assumed, died peacefully in his sleep.

"Yuuri? Are you awake?" A soft whisper came from his side and the moment after Viktor's fingertips touch Yuuri, his gasp for breath must have startled the other man. Switching the lamp on, concern was apparent on Viktor's face.

Yuuri was wide-eyed and pale. Hands gripping at his damp t-shirt, chest rising and falling as he attempted to fill his lungs with air, as if he had been deprived. His cheeks and neck wet with tears caused him to roll away from Viktor, he didn't want the older man worrying about him and his stupid problems.

Leaving the light on, the Russian shuffled closer to Yuuri, wrapping his arm around his waist. "I love you, Yuuri. I'll do my best to keep the nightmares away."

XxxxxxX

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, I do and I can't apologise enough, but… I need your help. It's Yuuri… Something is wrong." He whispered, desperation in his voice. "He won't talk to me, won't eat anything. It's not just one day here and there, it's been a couple of months, restricting his diet. He must have thought I didn't notice. Maybe… if you spoke to him, he might listen. I told myself he would come to me when he's ready, but… he hasn't said a word. Have I done something wrong?"

"No, Viktor. Look, it's five-thirty, I'm not coming over, the sun isn't even up yet. Don't tell him I'm coming, either." There was a pause. "We will get this sorted."

XxxxxxX

Yuuri would never dream of locking the door to Viktor's bedroom – it wasn't his house for a start, but when the world's moodiest Russian teenager slammed the door open, almost taking it off its hinges, Yuuri regretted his decision to be so courteous.

"Yurio, wh-"

"Sit up." The blonde interrupted, stepping into the room as Yuuri did what he was told slowly. "I need to talk to you about what you're doing to yourself and Viktor, but first," He tossed over a warm pastry wrapped in parchment paper onto the bed. "Eat it."

"I'm not hungry." He answered too quickly.

"I said 'eat it'." He demanded, brows furrowing like usual, but a sense of something opposite in his voice. "It's not going to do your body any good if you don't eat."

"I think I'll be fine, Yurio. Please, don't-"

"Don't what? Don't worry? Is that what you were going to say? What, you used to over eat so much you're trying to balance that out by not eating now? Not eating is even worse for you and the people around you." A pain expression present on his face as he spoke, sliding the snack closer to Yuuri once he sat on the bed. "Even if it's just half. Viktor's worrying about you and that's not fair, you know how he gets."

"Have you seen the comments they made about –" Just when he piped up, Yurio butted in again.

"So, what? Have you seen the negative comments I get? If every skater quit because of haters, there would be no one left, not even Viktor." His expression wasn't harsh anymore, the tone of his voice changing also. "I don't have any idea what it's like to carry a few extra pounds or read what people say about that, but _you_ have no idea what it's like for people to tell you once you start looking like a man – not a nine year old girl – your career is over." Yuuri never thought Yurio would open up to him about something so personal. "How you'll always be remembered as the petite boy who will be the next Viktor and they won't even care once I turn eighteen or sooner if I start developing... So I tried to make sure I stayed small, could move with the same grace, but it only made me tired and I couldn't concentrate, I made mistakes and worst of all, I made my grandad worry so much, he wasn't sleeping. Starving yourself doesn't accomplish anything besides making you irritable and too weak to practice, you also lose muscle tone. Not to mention how worried sick people are about you when you're having panic attacks. Yes, he told me about that." Yurio added before Yuuri could protest. "What I'm saying is talk to Viktor. He needs honesty, otherwise he goes from one to a hundred in seconds and getting an idea out of his head is almost impossible, good or bad, you know that. Anyway," he got up, "you know where I am."

"I do. Thanks, Yurio." Boy, he felt so stupid. "I know what I need to do now."

"After you eat that." He ordered, leaving the room.

XxxxxxX

The day before was _perfect_. Going shopping – on a date – with Viktor never felt so natural and carefree that, for a brief time, he forgot about his worries. Standing beside him as they exchanged rings outside the cathedral had been the best day of his life – sharing that special moment, the two men not even needing to say what it meant to them; they could feel it, see it in each other's eyes. While they didn't celebrate by making love that night – pre-competition rules – they held each other intimately throughout the night, taking up only one bed, regardless of having pushed the two together.

Despite how happy and loved he felt, the negative thoughts always found their way back to Yuuri and inside his head, the smallest thing setting it off – like Viktor not being there when he woke up that morning.

Yuuri only managed to become one of the six finalists _because_ of Viktor. He pushed himself to the limit during his last performance – messed up more than ever. Viktor's expression never changed as he watched Yuuri, giving no indication of his feelings when Yuuri stumbled or didn't complete a step sequence. His best efforts turned out to be his worst performance to date. It said it all when Viktor disappeared while Yuuri was being interviewed after his routine – something he wanted to avoid, but couldn't and the lack of Viktor had raised his already high anxiety.

His world began turning dark as he made his way up the stairs to join the other man, but his steps haltered. Viktor's name getting stuck on his tongue, heart becoming increasingly heavy while the Russian's passion for skating sparked back up for the first time in months – eight months. He always looked at his competition from a skater's point of view, but viewing them as a coach had given him a different insight into the sport, making his eyes shine again – clearly getting restless to be back on the ice. Most of the Finals competitors being able to give him a run for his money, having a year's advantage over Viktor, who would think of it as more of a challenge waiting to be won. Sitting next to him while watching the routines after his, practically seeing the thoughts go round Viktor's head was torturous for Yuuri and he had no way of ending it. Viktor was ready to get back into the game.

Tonight. Yuuri had to do it tonight or he never would.

XxxxxxX

His heart was beating a mile a minute. Palms sweating, his body shaking while he waited for the older man to sit. It was now or never."

Viktor looked up, smiling. "By the way, Yuuri… What did you want to talk to me about?"

He smiled, sadly. "After the Finals, let's end this."


End file.
